Friday, I’m in love.

Friday, thank you for finally arriving on my doorstep, at my bedside. It has been a long, long wait to see you.

What a week.

Monday, I came home to find my quasi-roommate, Lizzy, had moved out, which was a little sad, considering I was so enjoying her constant company and humor. I’ve lived alone for nearly three years, but adjusting to her absence this past week has actually been harder than adjusting to her suddenly arriving from New York and sleeping on an air mattress on my living room floor.

Tuesday, I went to sunrise yoga, and my teacher locked the keys to the main part of the studio, where the locker rooms are, inside the office. Which is inside the studio. Meaning, we were completely locked out. After we sat around for 10 minutes stressing about what to do, I remembered my cell phone was in my car, which was parked right outside on Connecticut Avenue (my yoga studio is just north of the Circle, by Five Guys and Gazuza).  So, after only the briefest consideration of how ridiculous I would look, I dashed outside in just my sweaty yoga sports bra and shorts to break into my own car to get my cell phone so we could call a locksmith. A guy who was walking by as I began to climb into my car trunk actually said out loud, “What the f***?!” I can only imagine what he was thinking.

Wednesday, I suffered through my worst class in at least a week. I also realized I had less than $20 in my bank account to last me until payday. And I got a notice in the mail saying my rent was going up $35 dollars. I hate money.

Thursday, I went to sunrise yoga again, thinking anything had to be better than Wednesday’s hell and Tuesday’s absurdity. Quite the contrary. Thursday was actually the worst class of this entire 30-day challenge. The instructor was completely green—I think we might have been the first class he ever taught—and his dialogue, his timing, his temperature control was all awful. The room was so cold that I moved my mat to get closer to the heaters. One woman actually put on a sweatshirt, which is absolutely unheard of in Bikram yoga. The worst part, though, was that he ran over by nearly 20 minutes, which is beyond annoying at 7:45 a.m. when you have to be at work by 8:30 a.m. I felt badly, but I just couldn’t stop myself from snapping at him about running late when we left the studio and headed upstairs to the locker rooms.

Friday, we are best friends. I adore you. This morning, my sunrise class rocked. I felt strong, supple, focused and relaxed. My instructor had perfect timing, perfect dialogue, perfect encouragement for each of us.

And, I have only two days left of my challenge. And, I like the outfit I’m wearing today. And, tonight I’m seeing a handful of friends who I have not seen in ages, and we are going to Old Ebbitt, a restaurant/bar I absolutely adore. And, it’s almost the weekend.

And, I’m happy.

On Sunday, I’ll finish this silly, little challenge of mine—30 freaking classes in 30 freaking days. Some might not think this is all that great a feat. Some might wonder why the hell a person would do something like this in the first place. Some just won’t understand.

But, all that doesn’t matter. It’s Friday, and I’m in love.